


the hazards of jetpack ownership

by bertee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, broken ankle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jensen is injured and Jared is helpful. Also they are spies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hazards of jetpack ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "broken ankle".

"I think I could just stay here forever," Jensen called as soon as Jared got out of the elevator. "That would be good."

Unbuckling his utility belt, Jared toed off his boots and wandered through the house in search of his boyfriend. It was dark out, enough that Jared could see stars through the skylight of the renovated mountain lair that doubled as their home, and he followed the glow of the non-external light through to the lounge.

Jensen looked up at him with a dopey smile. "Hi," he said. "How was the mission?"

"Good," Jared said with a yawn. "Saved all the hostages, recovered all the files, only caused two explosions. I think it counts as a win."

"Did you make any new archnemeses?" Jensen asked hopefully. 

"Sorry, baby," he said, dropping to a seat on the couch. It was nice to have a boyfriend who was actually interested in his work but sometimes Jensen seemed overly fond of having archnemeses. "Nothing new on the nemesis front. Guess you'll just have to live with sending some more judgmental emails to Lord Deathface."

"Lord Deathfaith," Jensen corrected reflexively. "And I do more than send emails. I blew up his lair and foiled his world domination schemes twice last year."

"Yet you're so much happier being passive-aggressive on the internet." Jared grinned. "Weird."

Jensen closed his eyes. "Shut up."

"Later," Jared said. "I think maybe we should talk about this first."

He gestured to where Jensen was sprawled out on his back on the carpet. Sadie, Harley and Oscar were curled up beside him while Icarus chewed idly on Jensen's sock, and all five of them looked like they were about to fall asleep any second in a giant puppypile on the floor.

"You have a problem."

"I have a broken ankle," Jensen said around a yawn. "I need to occupy my time."

"I don't think lying in a pile of dogs counts as occupying your time," Jared pointed out. "Didn't the agency send you some work?"

"I did it," Jensen said. "Twice." He flailed his arm in the direction of the side table. "Pass me a donut?"

"You suck at being injured, you know that?"

"I know," Jensen said. "Donut."

"You're lucky I love you," Jared muttered. 

Retrieving a donut from the box on the table, he held it over Jensen's mouth as he asked, "How long have you been lying here?"

"Three hours." He held his mouth open expectantly and kept it that way as he mumbled, "Donut."

Jared lowered it further and shook his head when Jensen lifted his head to chomp at it. "I can't believe I've been reduced to handfeeding you."

Jensen mwahaha'd briefly then took another bite of the donut.

"If you're secretly an evil mastermind who's training me to do his bidding by pretending to have a broken ankle, I will be mad at you," Jared warned him.

Jensen swallowed the mouthful of donut. "How am I supposed to have faked a broken ankle?" he asked. "Okay, yeah, I could've altered the x-rays and painted on the bruises but I'd need prosthetics or something to fake that much swelling."

"I'm glad that the evil mastermind part of that theory isn't a problem for you," Jared said, grabbing a donut for himself.

"I could be evil," Jensen pondered. "Like, if something went wrong and you got horribly killed, I could definitely go darkside."

Jared blinked, frozen mid-chew. "I don't even know what the most disturbing part of that sentence is."

Jensen reached up to pat him on the thigh. "It'll be fine. Don't die."

"Is this what you think about all day? How psychotic you'll go if someone kills me?"

"Not _all_ day," Jensen said patiently. "I played fetch with these guys for a bit."

He stroked Sadie's head, which was currently pillowed on Jensen's stomach as she eyed their donuts with envy.

Jared shook his head. "You need a hobby."

"I have a hobby. Work is my hobby," Jensen said. "I just can't do it right now because I was dumb enough to fall over a jetpack and break my fucking ankle."

He lifted the ankle in question as he spoke and Jared eyed the cast in sympathy. As much as he teased Jensen about it, he had to admit that being stuck at home for weeks sounded like a nightmare. 

"I'm sorry, man," he said honestly, leaning down to kiss Jensen's glaze-sticky lips. "It sucks."

Jensen looked up at him with a barely concealed pout. "I hate it," he groused. "I want Danneel to hurry up and invent a robot boot for me."

"She's on vacation with Genevieve," Jared said, scritching through Jensen's hair. "Maybe when she gets back?" He kissed him again, a weird, sideways-angled slant of lips that was enjoyable nonetheless, and then stroked his thumb over the dark circles under Jensen's eyes. "You tired?"

"Yeah," Jensen admitted. "I shouldn't be -- I've done jack shit all day -- but I can't sleep with this fucking thing clinging onto my foot like an alien."

"Is that the next sequel?" Jared asked with a smile. "Sigourney Weaver versus the ankle-huggers?"

Jensen jiggled his ankle, making the white cast catch the light. "Scary, right?"

"Terrifying," he agreed, shifting down to rest on his elbows as he leaned in for another kiss. It was softer this time, a slow, lazy slide of lips and tongue as Jared licked the taste of the donut from Jensen's lips, and he deepened the kiss cautiously when Jensen sighed against his mouth. 

Jensen reached up, tangling his fingers in Jared's hair and pulling him down towards him as Jared let his tongue play along the inside of Jensen's lip. Jensen's skin was warm under the palm of his hand as he cupped his jaw and Jared couldn't help the flare of heat that went through him at the thought of Jensen lying there all day, sleepy and pretty and desperate for some kind of stimulation.

When he pulled away, Jensen smiled as he chastised, "Stop thinking dirty thoughts."

Jared's brain switched directly to panic mode at the possibility that Jensen had finally figured out how to read thoughts. "I- What? How did-"

"You had your tongue in my mouth," Jensen said patiently. "It's kind of obvious when you lose concentration."

Jared felt his cheeks heat. "If it helps, I was having dirty thoughts about you?"

"Because me having a broken ankle is such a turn-on."

"Okay, not that part," Jared admitted. "Just, y'know-" He waved his hands in Jensen's direction. "This in general."

"Me lying on the floor is a turn-on?"

"Sad but true," Jared said, kissing him on the lips again. "Don't underestimate the effect your face has on a guy."

"I'm so glad we've reached the point in our relationship where 'I like your face' passes for foreplay."

Jared grinned. "You wanna take this to the bedroom?"

Jensen nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. "I can meet you there in about twenty minutes."

He reached for his crutches but raised his eyebrows when Jared knocked them out of his reach. "You know the sexy crawl thing doesn't really work when I can't actually walk, right?"

"No crawling," Jared said, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. "No walking either."

"Then how-"

Jared held out his arms with a winning smile.

Jensen stared at him. "You're shitting me."

"What?" Jared said innocently. "I carried you after you broke your ankle."

"You _supported_ me," Jensen said. "As in, helped me walk to the car to get to hospital. There was no carrying involved."

Jared smirked. "You sure you're remembering everything, Ackles? I can see how it would be hazy."

"Fuck you."

"What with all the whimpering and hopping and cursing the inventor of jetpacks."

"Fuck you," Jensen said again, smiling. "Help me up, asshole."

He held out his hands and Jared obliged, grabbing him by the wrists and helping him stand up without putting weight on his busted ankle. Jensen wobbled as he looked around for his crutches and Jared decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

Sweeping Jensen up in a bridal carry was easier than he anticipated. 

Jensen yelped, tensing up as soon as he left the ground, but Jared was relieved that his instincts seemed to tell him to cling to Jared's neck like a scared toddler rather than fight to get down. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jensen said.

Jared beamed at him. It was kind of disconcerting to have Jensen on the same eye-level with him. "Carrying you," he said simply, shifting Jensen in his arms and sidestepping out from between the couches.

"Stop carrying me."

"Nope."

Making it out past the couches, Jared left the dogs sleeping in a pile on the carpet as he carried Jensen down the hall to their bedroom, pausing to let Jensen turn out the lights on the way. One of the pros to living inside the former lair of a supervillain was that their house was very spacious but that also led to a long walk past the former science lab to get to the bedroom.

Fortunately, it seemed to be enough time for Jensen to relax a little and he loosened his grip on Jared's neck as he complained, "I'm a grown man."

"I noticed."

"I do super secret work for covert organisations," Jensen said. "I fight supervillains."

"And then turn their acid pits into swimming pools," Jared chimed in, remembering that particularly difficult stage of the renovation process.

Jensen ignored him. "I risk my life on a bi-weekly basis," he said grumpily, "and I'm being carried to the bedroom like a virgin bride on her wedding night."

"Hey, I'm sure there are virgin brides who risk their lives on a bi-weekly basis too," Jared teased. "You broke your leg, Jensen. You're allowed to accept help sometimes."

Jensen scowled but didn't argue. "Stupid foot."

"If it helps," Jared said, turning the corner towards their bedroom, "this is kind of a turn-on for me."

"Please get help."

"Shush," Jared said, maneuvering them up a couple of stairs. "It's not my fault I get turned on by picking you up."

Jensen smiled at him fondly. "What, are you getting off on how easy this is for you? How you can lift me up and put me wherever you want me because you're unfeasibly strong? Oh, yeah, and you can manhandle me onto all fours like this or sit me in your lap to ride your dick. Is that it?"

Jared wished he had a free hand to adjust his half-hard dick. "Was that a rhetorical question, or…?"

Jensen rolled his eyes with a grin. "You need higher standards about what gets you off."

"I hate to break it to you," Jared said, easing them through the bedroom door, "but the thought of manhandling you into riding my dick is pretty much the gold standard of jerk-off fantasies. It is way up there in the Hall of Fame."

Being careful not to jar his ankle, he dropped Jensen to the bed and turned away to pull his shirt off as Jensen asked, amused, "There's a Hall of Fame?"

"Made up entirely of you," Jared said, shimmying out of his pants. "You should be flattered."

He heard Jensen yawn from behind him. "I worry about you sometimes."

Turning around, Jared saw that Jensen had lost his battle to stay upright and was now slumped against the pillows. His arousal dimmed quickly at the sight of the dark circles under Jensen's eyes and the pallor of his face, and he pulled on a pair of pajama pants as he said honestly, "I worry about you too."

Clambering onto the bed, he cupped Jensen's jaw as he stroked his thumb along the line of his cheekbone. "You okay?

Jensen nodded as he yawned. "M'good." He kept still when Jared laid a hand on his forehead to check his temperature but murmured when he pulled away, "Too sleepy for doctors and nurses tonight."

"Aw, but you looked so good in that nurse outfit," Jared teased, climbing off the bed to grab a t-shirt and to hit the lights. "No doctors and nurses tonight. Not until you're all healed up."

"Guess you'll just have to cope with lifting me onto your dick instead."

Jared patted him on the head as he slid under the covers. "Maybe tomorrow. When you don't look like a corpse and won't pass out in the middle of it."

He could see Jensen's half-smile in the starlight that trickled in through the window. "Maybe I like when I pass out in the middle of it."

Jared's dick gave an unhelpful twitch. "Noted and filed," he said, "but I'm not really into corpse-fucking roleplay. That's kind of a dealbreaker tonight."

Jensen smacked him on the arm as he pulled the blankets over himself, being careful of his ankle. "I don't look like a corpse."

"You're a very pretty corpse," Jared offered. "But yeah, still a corpse."

"Your face is a corpse," Jensen said around a yawn. 

It made him look a little like a rumpled zombie cat, which was definitely not a fantasy that was earning a place in the Hall of Fame any time soon, and Jared snuggled up next to him, hooking an arm around his waist. "Sleep."

"I can't believe you called me a corpse."

Too tired to argue further, Jared tucked himself up against Jensen's back and spoke against the back of his neck, "You're awesome and I love you and you only look a tiny bit like a corpse and I love you anyway."

Jensen made a little 'hmph' noise but from the way he relaxed back into Jared's arms, Jared guessed he'd been forgiven. Tired from the day's exertions (and from trotting through a former lair with his six-foot-plus boyfriend in a bridal carry), Jared planted a sloppy kiss to the corner of Jensen's jaw and settled down to sleep.

He may or may not have contemplated how easy it would be to carry Jensen around on his shoulders the next morning. Possibly with Jensen holding some kind of jousting lance.


End file.
